


Landslide

by BakedPotato



Category: Phandom, Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, DAN AND PHIL - Freeform, Fluff, Immortal, JUST, Oops, PBB, Phandom Big Bang, Phanfiction, SO MUCH SADNESS, Smut, So much angst, a little bit, immortal au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-09-01 06:12:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8612359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BakedPotato/pseuds/BakedPotato
Summary: Dan is immortal. Phil isn't. Dan tells himself not to get attached. Phil has no problem getting close to people. And Dan's long, long life tends to go every which way except the right one.
 
alternatively: 13k worth of sadness that literally no one asked for.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Come one, come all, to my Phandom Big Bang fic! This fic has been a huge, crazy part of my life since June, and at 13k, the longest thing I've ever written. I'm pretty proud of it, and I hope y'all cry as much reading it as I did writing it.
> 
> author: holdyourcheese (me)
> 
> beta: sentenialstar aka the AMAZING Sarah who got thrown into all this as a pinch hitter. Thank you so much for fixing all my stupid mistakes and constantly reassuring me that the fic isn't terrible.
> 
> artist: kurreliina, who I'd like to thank for sharing my love of memes and procrastination and showing me how to say things in her weird languages with too many letters.
> 
> Additionally thanks go to Mrs. Britt-Miller my Family Life teacher, because I wrote a good third of this fic in her class.
> 
> [link to art](http://holdyourcheese.tumblr.com/post/153490335663/art-by-kurreliina-for-pbb4-read-landslide-on-ao3)

The dust flew up as the last box slammed down onto the floor. Evening sunlight sneaked through the blinds and the world began to settle down. The tranquility could only be interrupted by the insistent wheezing coming from one Dan Howell.

 

“Jesus Christ, this place is old,” he uttered, surveying the small area. It may seem like nothing, barely a one-bedroom flat, but for a run down complex on the verge of bankruptcy, it was the jewel of the United Kingdom. 

 

He lowered himself onto the floor, letting out a semi-dramatic sigh as if there was anybody around to hear.

 

There never was.

 

His hand made its way to his pocket, and out of habit he took out his phone. He pulled up the news and began scrolling through the mundane media of today- articles alternating between the latest celebrity scandal and why he should vote for so and so this election season. Kim Kardashian’s new fitness challenge was the pique of his interest as he glanced up to check the time, he knew he had to-

 

_ Shit. _

 

_ Goddamnit,  _ Dan thought to himself.  _ Of course you’re late. How are you always late? You  _ literally  _ have all the time in the world and somehow you can’t even make it to meet your fucking dealer. _

 

These were the thoughts running through his head as he grabbed his coat from the floor and sprinted out the door. A quick ten minute  sprint walk and he found himself inside Starbucks, ordering a coffee and scanning the tables for a girl in a grey hat. He spotted her, and once his pumpkin spice latte ( which was delicious thank you very much ) was ready, walked over and took the seat across from her. 

 

“Dan, I assume?” she asked. Though her profession gave the illusion that she would be a Type A Badass, her appearance proved to be quite the opposite. Her light grey beanie was accompanied by a wool sweater and ripped skinny jeans. The hint of a smile on her face added to the look,making her seem utterly innocent. Then again, she did deal fake IDs and drugs. So, badass in her own way.

 

“That would be me,” Dan replied dryly. 

 

He just wanted to get this over with.

 

“Ok, so I’ve got one ID here,” she dug through her bag, pulling out the object in question. A flick of her wrist and it was slid over to Dan, who examined it. The tough thing with these altercations were making sure they were legit. “Meet your standards?”

 

“Yeah I th- wait, it says I’m 25 right here.”

 

“And?”

 

“I asked you to make it say 23. Do I  _ look  _ 25? With  _ this  _ face?”

 

“What does it matter? You’re still legal.”

 

“No, it doesn’t- you know what, never mind. It’s fine.” He’d just have to be 25 this time around.

 

“That’ll be £80, sweet cheeks.”

 

Jesus, this girl was a lot. Dan felt the blush creeping up his neck as he handed over the money, thankful that the cold disguised it.

 

“Well then, um, I better, you know, get going now,” he choked out, hastily grabbing his coffee and speed-walking back to his flat as fast as he could.

  
Bloody hell, he hated being the new guy.


	2. Chapter 2

Dan always had a fondness for cooking. Something about food- one of the few constants in his world that coincidentally, was needed to live- made him appreciate his situation just a little bit more. He often wondered if his peculiar existence would continue without food. So he’d tried it; sometimes experimentally, sometimes in the hopes that it would end a different way.

 

He preferred not to think about those times.

 

Despite his love for food, however, Dan Howell did not love the food industry. Which was exactly what he was stuck in. It was the easiest of odd jobs; small cafes, chain drive-thrus, or stands inside malls which very rarely required thorough background checks. Sure, the pay wasn’t great, but it was easy, mindless work. What more could he ask for?

 

His latest job landed him in a local restaurant, a pizza place that prided itself in being “ _The Best Italian Around!”_. Unfortunately, the little piece of Italy was hiring wait staff, not chefs. Dan wasn’t exactly a people person, but hey, money was money.

 

Dan’s first shift was in the afternoon, making him 1000% less irritable and extremely grateful he hadn’t applied to a breakfast place. Though he knew the drill by now, he was still required to be trained by a current employee. So the moment he walked into the restaurant, he was greeted by a very enthusiastic face.

 

“Hi! You must be the new guy. Dan, was it? Sorry, I’m forgetful with names sometimes,” the man stated, followed by a somewhat awkward laugh. He stood about 6’3”, conveniently equal to Dan’s height. His hair was jet black, which struck Dan as odd considering the blue eyes and light brown eyebrows that accompanied it. He was skinny, yet well-built, and the way his expression never seemed to falter from his smile was almost comforting. _Perfect for customer service,_ Dan thought.

 

“Yeah, that’s me. Dan. Um, who are you?” _Really Dan? Who are you? Could you be any more fucking rude this guy probably hates you now and you’ll have to-_

 

“Oh yeah, you probably should know that… I’m Phil.  Phil Lester. I’m supposed to be training you this week.”

 

Dan’s thoughts were working faster by the second. _Of course, the one guy you offend is the one you’ll be stuck with all week. Well, it could be worse. Could be stuck with some creep who eyes you all week. Or some fucking teen going through puberty who also eyes you all week._ Of course, Dan didn’t say any of this, instead spitting out a “great” through gritted teeth, and following Phil into the kitchen.

 

* * *

  


Work went exactly as expected. Long hours, annoying customers, everything one would anticipate from a minimum wage job. However, the one thing Dan did not expect was Phil Lester. In his previous jobs, coworkers kept their distance, everyone just trying to get through their day. But _Phil_ , he just had to be friends with everyone. And right now that everyone meant Dan.

 

All week Dan had been pestered by Phil, asked questions to which he mostly replied to with one word answers. He assumed Phil would eventually give up and leave him alone. Boy, was he wrong.

 

He was in the back near the kitchen, scrolling through his phone during his break when the ever present Phil approached him once again with a “Hey Dan! What's up?”

 

“You know, just work,” Dan stated unemotionally. As much as he wished Phil would leave him alone, he was starting to get used to the other man being around.

 

“Yeah, that is why we’re here. To do the work…” Phil replied with an awkward laugh, trying to keep the conversation alive. But really, that was like walking up to a squirrel that had been run over and offering it a band-aid.

 

“Anyway,” Dan said abruptly, only now looking up from his phone, “is there a particular reason you came over here?”

 

“Oh, yeah! I was wondering if maybe, you'd like to grab a coffee or something after work today?”

 

 _What?_ Dan immediately thought. It was definitely _not_ the question he had expected. He stuttered for a moment, breaking his usually collected exterior if only for a moment. His eyes moved around- to the floor, the table, his phone- anywhere but Phil. Finally he spit out a very weak “Um, I guess?” before he could stop himself.

 

Phil instantly lit up, breaking into an even bigger smile as his multi-colored eyes seemed to glow.

 

_How can they even be that many colors? They’re oceans of blue combined with green and yellow and- never mind. Back to the present, Dan._

 

Phil was on his toes the whole time he spoke, practically vibrating with excitement. “Really? Great! We get off of work at the same time, so once we’re both ready we can head out- oh! And I know this really great little cafe we can go! It actually has real coffee instead of the watered down stuff that's so often in London, you know? Well, I guess you haven't been…” His voice faded into the background noise of Dan’s world. He knew he should be listening, but he was too busy wondering what the hell he had just gotten himself into.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Several hours later and Dan could be found fumbling with the key to his flat, desperately trying to open the door. Once the lock finally decided to cooperate with him, he walked in and promptly threw everything he had been holding onto his bed- including himself.

 

He closed his eyes, trying to silence the cacophony of thoughts running through his head. _What the fuck just happened?_ Well, whatever it was had gone well. He almost wanted more- but he couldn't. He knew he couldn't.

 

What was it about being immortal? Why not just go wreak havoc everywhere you went? It's not like they could kill you, right?

 

That's just the thing. Being immortal didn't make you invincible. Oh, Dan knew about that. In his, _darker times_ , he had once attempted to jump off a building. He knew he wouldn’t age, but figured that taking his own life would end it.

 

He was wrong.

 

Ended up breaking most of his ribs, both legs and an arm (among other minor injuries). He also discovered that while he could not die, he still had to heal like a normal human. Long story short, that left him in the hospital until he could walk again, then proceeded to flee the city and change his identity before the medical bills caught up with him.

 

That led him to realizing he couldn’t just go around doing whatever the hell he wanted. If someone caught him, that would be it. He’d be left to rot in prison until they inevitably realized he hadn’t died yet, then shipped off to a lab until he sincerely wished he were dead.

 

Dan really wasn’t able to find a bright side to his situation.

 

Not ever history had been on his side. He had originally been born in 1891, just before the turn on the century. His life had been normal up to about the time World War I began. It was just a few months after his 23rd birthday when he had been shipped off to war. Where he had fought was a blur, but he remembered getting shot in the chest.

 

God, he could never forget that.

 

The pain had been like nothing he could ever imagine. It had felt like his chest was being set on for from the inside out, spreading its flames all throughout his body. He was delirious, so overwhelmed while his body was being burnt to ashes so much that he was ready to die. And no one cared. They continued rushing around him, stepping over him, on him, until he was alone.

 

He was dead, right?

 

He truly thought he was. But then why didn't the pain go away?

 

Maybe this was hell. His own personal hell. Maybe he had died right when that bullet hit him, and this was all his fate. To be left alone to suffer for eternity.

 

He drifted in and out of consciousness. He never found out how long he had laid there, but it has felt like eternity.

 

Until one day, he got up.

 

It hurt like a bitch, and he could only stand for a moment before collapsing face first once again, but he had done it.

 

And then he did it again. Day after day, he attempted to stand up until finally, he could walk.

 

So he walked.

 

For days, probably, he was too delirious to be sure. Finally collapsed behind a hospital.

 

When he awoke, he went inside. Requested to see a doctor. The nurse was too shocked by the bullet lodged right where his heart was to question it.

 

The doctor tried to take him into surgery, or at least give him something to make him numb before he- you know.

 

Dan denied.

 

“Sir, I know shock is a powerful thing. It's a miracle you survived the impact, but this is a mortal wound. You're going to die.”

 

Dan laughed. “Yeah, already tried that.”

 

And that's how he lived. Moving from place to place, changing his name, hoping that one day he would just be able to _die_. He never prayed.

 

God had left him the moment that bullet had pierced his heart. The same way he-

 

His spiraling train of thought was interrupted by a buzzing beside him. He checked his phone and found a text from Phil.

 

 _Damnit,_ Dan thought. _I gave Phil my number. Why the fuck did I do that?_

 

Despite his regret, he opened the text.

 

_Phil: hey! I had fun earlier, hope you did too. If you'd want, maybe we could do it again sometime? I understand if you don't. See you at work!! >.< _

 

Dan knew what he should do. He knew logically, he should try to stay away from Phil. To not completely abandon him, but not get any closer. And yet.

 

_Dan: I had fun too. I'm a bit busy lately, but we could do something again?_

  
  


Who cares about logic.


	4. Chapter 4

Dan didn't know what to think anymore. A week had gone by ever since the first date outing- and for once, it hadn't ended in him quitting his job and never talking to said person again. But the best part? _They were going on a second_ date outing.

 

It was a Thursday night, and Dan was sitting on his bed wondering what the hell was about to happen. When Phil had suggested they hang out again. Dan, while still hesitant- had accepted fairly quickly. Dan had assumed they would be going to dinner or something of the like, but when he questioned Phil about the matter that was not the answer he got. Phil had told him it was a surprise- somewhere that only “an experienced London-ologist” would know.

 

So there Dan was.

 

After checking the time, he decided it was close enough to seven to go wait outside. The nearest bench was subjected to his butt only until a cab pulled up and he stepped inside to join Phil.

 

* * *

  


When the cab finally arrived at said location, the brightly lit sign was the first thing that caught Dan’s eye. A closer look showed the sign read “Phantasia” in bold, yet dimly lit letters. Dan found it offputting at first until the word _Arcade_ came into view directly under it, immensely calming his nerves. Arcade he could handle.

 

The outside was small, but once they stepped in Dan found that they made very good use of the space. An array of games lined the walls- vintage, new, things he'd never heard of. Phil turned towards him, opening his mouth to ask-

 

“Oh my god. Phil.”

 

“Is this not ok? I thought it would be fun but if you're uncomfo-”

 

“Is that a DDR machine?” Dan was aware he probably sounded like an idiot at that moment. But hey, they were at an arcade. He could do worse.

 

“What- oh yeah, I think it is. You play?”

 

“Do I _play?_ I do more than just _play_ , Phil. I annihilate,” Dan stated tauntingly.

 

Phil raised his eyebrow in response. “Is that a challenge?”

 

“I don’t know, is it?” Dan hadn’t seen the more challenging side of Phil before. It was both strange and intriguing for him to be anything but his usual all-smiles self.

 

“Oh, it’s on Howell,” And with that, Phil raced over to the machine in question.

 

For the first time in a while, Dan laughed. Then he walked over to Phil, victory already in his eyes.

 

* * *

  


Phil was on the floor.

 

Phil was on the floor, laughing, trying to catch his breath as he watched Dan play his 8th round of DDR. And even more so, watched him _ace_ it.

 

Dan finally stepped off the platform after a vigorous routine to “Keep on Movin’”, allowing Phil to applaud him as he did so. They had agreed it would be their last round after Phil fell off during “End of the Century”. Which only Dan found slightly ironic.

 

“Ok, I admit I’ve been defeated. I bow down to the one and only, _DDR God._ Your wish is my command,” Phil stated dramatically, kneeling down onto one knee.

 

Dan didn’t know it was physically possible he could blush that hard. “Play more games with me?”

 

And once again there went Phil, speeding through the building to find skeeball.

 

* * *

 

An hour later and Dan and Phil could be found sitting at a table in the back of the arcade, half-drunk on diet soda and happiness. Dan couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this good.

 

“So my foot’s completely stuck in there right, I'm like- freaking out, the dog’s having a seizure and there's still half a pie left,” Dan told his story as he watched Phil almost double over laughing, his wide smile out once again.

 

“Oh my gosh, that's- that's amazing Dan. I just- how do you-” Phil's questioning was interrupted by an employee walking over to their table, wringing their hands together as they did so.

 

“Hey um, sorry, but we're about to close, so I mean, if you could…” they trailed off, clearly not wanting the confrontation of having to tell them to “get the fuck out”.

 

Dan was the first to reply, “Don't worry, we were just finishing up. Phil?”

 

“Yeah, I need to head home anyway.” Dan stood up halfway before Phil stopped short, “Wait. We can still spend our tickets, right?” he asked, looking towards the massive pool of tickets that had formed under the table. Skeeball truly was a magical thing.

 

“Um..sure. I can ring you up right over there.” Once the employee reluctantly agreed, Dan rolled his eyes as Phil began to gather up their mountain of tickets. After several failed attempts to carry all of them at once, Dan leaned over and helped.

 

Said tickets were deposited on the display table, and the poor employee looked at them with wide eyes. It was nearly five minutes until closing, and with the number of DDR rounds they played they’d be stuck there until morning.

 

After a solid 30 seconds of awkward silence the young worker came to a conclusion. “You know what, you two clearly um, have enough. So just go ahead and pick something from the back wall? Please, _please_ don’t make me count out 165 individual spider rings. I’m begging you,” they said, basically begging the other two with the look in his eyes.

 

Dan laughed quietly, completely understanding the employee. Customer service was a real bitch sometimes. He scanned the row of prizes, not really looking at anything. It was Phil’s idea to come there, after all.

 

Phil seemed to share this notion. “Um, could we take that bear up there?” He asked, gesturing up. The stuffed bear in question was a subtle green with bits of yellow in stripes across it, complete with a bow around its neck. Exactly the kind of thing you’d find at an arcade, but somehow it didn’t look cheap. It just looked loveable. The employee brought down the bear and quickly scrapped the tickets. And with that, the pair headed outside, not quite done but sympathetic enough to not keep the worker waiting any longer.

 

Once outside, Dan realized how cold it had gotten, shivering even through his jacket. They faced each other before Phil offered out the bear to him. “For you,” was all he said.

 

Dan accepted the gift, but quickly argued against it. “Phil, you really don’t have to. It was all your idea anyway.”

 

“I know I don’t _have_ to, silly. But I _want_ to. Just consider it my thanks for coming with me tonight.”

 

“Wow- I,” Dan was at a loss for words. In all his years, no one had never thought to give him a gift. Sure, paying for lunch here and there, buying an extra soda. But this. _This_ was sentimental. It meant something, and it meant so much to Phil that he was willing to give it away just to make Dan happy. “Thank you.”

 

Phil smiled. “Anytime.” And in that moment, Phil looked up. He looked up at Dan and it was like all the stars had burst.

 

They were only illuminated by the street light, which casted a shadow on one side and left them with something right out of a movie. Then Phil moved in closer, if only a touch, but enough that Dan took notice. And god, did he look pretty. Eyes sparkling in the moonlight, cheeks flushed from the chill, and he began to lean closer, his face closer to Dan’s and closer and closer and closer and

 

Dan stepped back.

 

Phil was shaken for a moment, and let the hurt flash in an out of his eyes as he processed the situation.

 

And then Dan did the most Dan-like thing he could think of. He held out his fist, and after a moment, they fist bumped.

 

The air seemed stale as they both walked their separate ways. Dan clutched onto his bear. Phil looked back.

 

Dan didn’t.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Dan hated silence.

 

Silence meant no noise. No noise meant thinking. And thinking meant falling deep into a pit of existential thoughts about his somewhat dire situation. Something he tried not to get himself into often.

 

And yet.

 

He was laying on his makeshift bed, studying the ceiling like it held the answers to the universe. The bear from the previous night (which had been dubbed Thom) was being held captive in his arms as he wondered what the _fuck_ he was going to do.

 

It's not as though he could stop talking to Phil. They worked together, and plus, he knew it would devastate Phil if he basically told him to fuck off.

 

Not to mention the fact that maybe, he might, just a little tiny bit, have a big gay crush on Phil.

 

Maybe.

 

Dan wasn't in denial that he was into guys, he didn't really have a preference. What's the point in labels when you live long enough to see them change time and time again? What he _was_ in denial of is the fact that he would allow himself to develope a crush on someone.

 

But if there was one thing Dan Howell had learned from his time on Earth, it was that the world had absolutely no problem fucking him over.

 

* * *

 

Work for Dan was- awkward to say the least. He and Phil had the same shift, which left Dan to mostly hiding in the dishes while also sneaking glances at the other man. At one point he threw a wet towel over his face so Phil wouldn't see him pass.

 

Needless to say, he was extremely happy to return to his bed at the end of the day.

 

And then he got a text. From Phil.

 

_Goddamnit._

 

_Phil: Hey! I had a lot of fun last night. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I totally didn't mean to! If you'd still want to hang out some more, I totally would! But also if you'd rather not and keep covering yourself with towels to avoid me that's cool too._

 

Dan was the definition of second hand embarrassment. And yet, he replied.

 

_Dan: haha. Didn't think you saw that… I had fun last night too. Sorry about, all that.. it's just- we barely even know each other yet, you know?_

 

There. Dan was happy with what he had sent. It was a reply, but he hadn't committed to anything. He really had enjoyed the date, which ended up prompting him to add the _yet_ to the end of the message. Implying there would be more dates.

 

And yes, Dan had decided. It had been a date. The last one had been a date, so the next one will be too.

 

_Phil: I get it. Um, weird question. Did you happen to name that bear from last night? I feel like he deserves a name. >.< _

 

_Dan: Thom._

 

Dan regretted the message right after he sent it. Phil wasn’t going to understand and then they would have a _very_ awkward conversation about it that would end in him never-

 

_Phil: Like the guy from Radiohead?_

 

How was this man so perfect.

 

_Dan: Yeah, actually. I went back and forth between him and Matt Bellamy for a while. A life-altering choice, clearly._

 

_Phil: You chose Radiohead over MUSE?? And I thought I liked you…_

 

Dan felt himself scream internally.

 

_Dan: I WENT BACK AND FORTH_

 

_Phil: But MATT BELLAMY. COME ON DANIEL_

 

_Dan:_ …

 

_Phil: Can his middle name be Matt?_

 

_Dan: I think I can manage that._

 

Dan was starting to think he could manage a lot of things.

 

* * *

 

The rope was fairly easy to acquire.

 

He made sure to find a length that wouldn't chafe, but would still hold tight. Not so much for his own comfort, but for the sake of eliminating any evidence.

 

The ceiling of Dan’s flat was unfortunately bare. Though, he imagined a ceiling fan may not have been able to support him anyway. He opted instead for throwing the rope over his closet door and shutting it. After assuring it wouldn't slip, he fastened the noose onto the other end.

 

His knees hit the wood floor with a thud, sending jolts of pain up his thighs. He laughed at that.

 

The position of the knot was something he'd experimented with for years. The first time he had tried, it went in front of him. The moment the chair was removed from under him- that was his first mistake- his head snapped straight back. There was pain, alright. But the hospital bill from his broken neck just wasn't worth it.

 

A plethora of trial-and-error had led to his current method of what made him feel alive. Or feel dead, perhaps. He preferred not to think about it too much.

 

The knot went behind his neck, prematurely tugging his head up. As much as he craved this, savoring his few final moments of breath sent him into his headspace in a matter of seconds.

 

His eyes fell closed, only partially on his own accord. The room around him began to fall away, leaving him suspended on nothing but his own thoughts. He stayed that way until it didn’t feel like he was breathing, didn’t feel like he was moving, didn’t feel like he was thinking. Didn't feel like he was existing.

 

It was his own little version of death.

 

His only lifeline was the steady pressure of the rope grazing his neck and the darkness behind his eyelids keeping him from knowing. The darkness.

 

Then the darkness took over. It seeped into him like smoke, filling his lungs with a black abyss he longed to fade into. It pooled in the pit of his stomach, lacing through his body like it _owned_ him. Maybe it did. Then it devoured him, destroying his form from the inside out. It fed on him, not satisfied until Dan was completely empty. A shell of who he used to be.

 

The darkness jolted out of him, hungry for its next victim. It sent wracks through his body until his knees shook and h felt his legs giving out under him.

 

So he let them.

 

His head jerked back. The pressure on his neck tightened until he was gasping for air and shaking and felt tears in his eyes but still he did not move. The tears ran down his cheeks and the rope dug into his neck and his arms went limp at his sides but still he did not move. His vision blurred and he felt his head falling to the side as his lungs gave out the last of their efforts but still he did not move. Not until his throat burned and his nails had dug craters into his thighs and his eyes glazed over did he finally move.

 

With shaky hands he pulled at the noose, vision going black around the edges. It dropped to the ground beside him and when he finally opened his eyes he found no, he wasn’t alone in the universe. And no, he hadn’t died. He was on the floor of a London flat trying to catch his breath due to the fact that he had just choked himself. On purpose.

 

Dan laughed.

 

And let himself blackout.

 

* * *

 

Dan woke up the the sun setting. His back ached as he sat up, a result of lying on the hardwood floor for several hours. His head was pounding, causing him to stumble as he tried to walk towards the bathroom. He braced himself against the sink, downing a handful of painkillers and willing them to work.

 

What's the worst they could do? Kill him?

 

Once his head began to clear, his knowledge of how to be a human began to return with it. He forced himself to shower, letting steam fill the room until he could barely see through it before stepping back out.

 

Once dry, it occurred to him just how _tired_ he was, despite having slept on the floor. His mind thought of about 15 other things he should've been doing, but he knew he wouldn't have the energy for any of them.

 

_It's not like I'm wasting time, anyway._ He thought. _God, time’s the one thing I've got more than enough of._

 

So he collapsed onto the bed, and once again, fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

It had all started so simple.

 

_Dan drew a breath as nails dug into his shoulders. It was the type of pain that grounded you, that left bruises the next morning as a reminder that it had been real. That you were real._

 

_The type that kept Dan alive more than anything else._

 

_The mattress shook under him as the weight above him shifted. The person attached to the breathy moans in his ear moved in closer to him and the feeling of so much skin on skin made his lips part. Then his lips found their way to another’s and his eyes opened to see two closed ones in front of him. Dan’s hands went to the other man’s hair and stayed there as the other’s eyes opened to reveal a pair of bright blue orbs staring back at him._

 

_Dan let go._

 

_T_ h _e hands f_ el _l a_ w _ay an_ d _t_ h _e bl_ a _nke_ t _s ca_ m _e ba_ ck an _d t_ he _eyes fa_ de _d aw_ a _y_ int _o the cr_ acke _d_ ceiling _illu_ min _at_ ed _by_ th _e_ moonlight.

 

A _n_ d it wa _s_ all _g_ o _n_ e.

 

Dan stayed awake just long enough to check the time (3:46am) and take a moment to process what had just happened. Including what had happened _down there_.

 

Great. Now he had to wash his sheets.

 

* * *

 

Dan was officially ready for death. The cause? Scrambled eggs.

 

He had been through a lot in his life. Death had been chasing him for years, nipping at his heels, but time after time he managed to escape. He'd been able to avoid suspicion about his identity, even in a world that seemed to scrutinize his every move. And yet, he still hadn't found a way to escape breakfast rushes.

 

Anyone looking for him could find him hiding in the supply closet, nearly in tears due to the fact that a woman had just asked for scrambled eggs _without the egg_ and he still had a double shift to work.

 

He knew he'd have to go back out eventually, they were understaffed and he wouldn't want to keep whatever screaming customer was tossed his way waiting. But there was one other little problem.

 

_Phil_ was working too.

 

_Relax Dan, it's just Phil. You know, Phil the-guy-I-had-a-wet-dream-about Lester._

 

It seemed Dan's mind was in no position to do him favors.

 

* * *

 

No matter how much Dan stared at the clock, it continued to taunt Dan with the last 10 minutes of his shift. Surprisingly, fate had decided to stop fucking him over for once and made the day go fairly well. Dan was leaned against the counter, procrastinating cleaning until he could go home.

 

“Dan!” Who could have- _oh._

 

_“_ Oh! Um, h-hey, Phil,” Dan stuttered out, mentally cursing himself for being _so fucking awkward._

 

“Have you been avoiding me? I haven't really seen you all day and, well… yeah.”

 

“What? No I've just been, uh- busy. You know, lunch rush and all.”

 

“Yeah, I guess,” Phil said, setting a hand on the counter opposite Dan.

 

Right into a bowl of soup.

 

“Oh- shit! Jesus on a nutcracker!” Phil was flailing his hand around as though it were on fire.

 

And Dan, being the great friend he was, was laughing. He continued to laugh as Phil frantically ran over to the sink and refused to move his hand from under the water for the next 5 minutes.

 

Dan got a sentence out despite his being out of breath. “Oh my god- I, I can't- hold on. Ok, I'm cool. Totally not laughing. This is not a funny situation. I just can't believe I found someone as clumsy as me.” The conversation stayed light-hearted as Phil laughed alongside Dan, hand still under the water.

 

“Ok, maybe it was a _little_ funny. A little. Honestly, I'm surprised this is the first time I've done something like this.”

 

“I'm surprised it wasn't me this time.”

 

“I'm glad it was me, cause now you have to make it up to me for laughing.”

 

“Phil!”

 

“Please? I just have one question.”

 

_Oh god he knows_. Dan tried his best to hide the panic on his face. He let out a short “yes?” And waited for the end.

 

The few seconds that Phil took to respond felt longer than his entire life had been.

 

“How do you really feel about me?”

 

“I- what?”

 

“You've been sending all these mixed signals. I just don't want to pressure you into doing something with me. What do you want from this?”

 

Dan drew a breath. “What do I want?” The unsettling feeling of rubatosis wouldn’t leave Dan alone. His next words were a whisper.

 

“You.”

 

Dan's mind was a flurry of regret and excitement as he wondered whether he would need to charge his phone before going out tonight or look up how to become an isolated sheep herder in the next 3 days. It all depended on this answer.

 

“Oh.”

 

And then Phil closed the space between them.

 

It was more of a peck on the lips than a kiss, the kind middle schoolers share behind the bleachers. But a kiss nonetheless.

 

“Dan?”

 

“Yeah, Phil?” Dan's heart was beating out of his chest.

 

“I think I burnt my hand.”

 

* * *

 

Phil’s hand did recover, eventually. But that was to be expected.

 

Dan, however, never expected soup to have a big role in his life. He _really_ never expected it to lead to nearly two months of his life full of nothing but Phil, Phil, _Phil._

 

Dan found himself no longer dreading shifts, just as long as Phil was working them too. Which he usually was. Whether it was due to fact that they were slightly understaffed or because Phil planned his schedule around Dan’s as much as he could, Dan wasn't sure. But he preferred to believe the latter.

 

It was only two months, a minuscule amount considering the length of Dan’s life, but for once, the days seemed to last long enough. Because now they had a purpose.

 

Saying the two were connected at the hip wasn't much of a stretch either. Dan still needed time for himself, but when he didn't, he finally had something to fill it with. He wasn't sure if everything they did qualified as “dates”, when they mostly just downed cups of coffee and fooled around at work, but they were together. And that was enough. Finally, it was enough.

 

He just hoped it would last.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my new friend Fuzzy made some really cool art for this chapter! Check it out [here!](http://holdyourcheese.tumblr.com/post/154793292398/amazing-art-by-alonely-soul1-80-inspired-by-my)


	6. Chapter 6

There were few things in the world that brought Dan happiness. Acts of kindness, stability, not having to think about the impending doom of the universe. However, there was one thing that never failed to make the very top of the list.

 

Alcohol. 

 

Specifically, the champagne in his hand. Normally he wouldn’t go with such formalities, opting instead for something harder and faster to put straight into his body. But in the company of other people-especially  _ Phil-  _ he was willing to set personal preference aside.

 

The night had been dinner at a fancy restaurant-something they probably couldn't afford- followed by nearly an hour of talking and not letting someone else have their table. Did Dan feel guilty? Yes. But did he do anything to change the situation? Hell no.

 

Small talk had never been Dan’s forte, and frankly he didn’t understand how it could be anyone’s, but talking with Phil didn’t feel like that. It came naturally, and Dan was able to let himself be honest- well, mostly honest- with the other man.

 

The current topic at hand: aliens.

 

“I mean, there has to be  _ something _ out there! It's not possible we're the only intelligent beings in the whole universe,” Dan said, already deeply invested in the conversations.

 

“No, I think they're definitely out there somewhere. But there's got to be a reason we haven't made contact with any yet.” Luckily, Phil seemed equally as invested.

 

“Well, yeah, but they could be entire galaxies away. And who are we to assume that they have more advanced technology than us like all the films show? They could be just as- or even more primitive than us. Maybe  _ they're  _ the ones scared of  _ us _ .” 

 

“Or maybe they're just microscopic right now. Or what if they're like, bigger than the whole earth! Like- giant space whales.”

 

“Wha- space whales? Really?”

 

“Hey, you never know!”

 

“Well, I can't argue with that.” Dan went to take another sip of his champagne only to realize the glass was empty.  _ When had that happened? _

 

After asking the waiter for another bottle, the two dove into another colorful conversation- this time about cats. The night continued like that, both content in each other’s presence. When they found their glasses a little too low for their liking, it was decided to finally relieve the restaurant of their presence. They were walking out when Phil spoke up.

 

“Dan?” He sounded fairly confident,any worries he may have had washed away by the alcohol buzzing through his system.

 

“Yeah?” 

 

“Would you wanna, come back to my place?”

 

Dan paused. It wasn't quite the question he had expected, but he wasn't shocked either. Everything else felt a little blurry, but what he wanted was clear in his mind.

 

“Sure.” 

 

Phil smiled at that. Dan’s face quickly followed as he felt Phil lace their hands together, pulling him forward to hail a cab.

 

* * *

 

The ride back to Phil’s was a comfortable silence, Dan’s head leaning on Phil’s shoulder for the majority of it. They made their way to the door and Dan found himself laughing when Phil still wasn’t able to find the key after his third attempt. The lock finally gave and led the two into what was their escape for the night.

 

The sounds of their breathing was only masked by that of the hum of the building, softly adding to the silence in the room. Things were calm at that moment. 

 

So Dan pushed Phil against the wall. 

 

Phil gasped at the sudden movement but quickly melted into the kiss as he put his hands on Dan’s hips. They became a moving body mantra working in perfect harmony with one another and Dan couldn’t help himself but to melt into it to distract him from what he was doing.

 

It was when Dan’s hands began fumbling with the buttons on the other man’s shirt that Phil pulled back, nearly breathless. “Dan, wait,” Phil said in a low voice, “are you sure about this?”

 

“I am,” Dan replied, clearly not phased. “Please.”

 

If only Phil knew.

 

Phil laughed under his breath. “Okay then.”

 

* * *

 

The pounding in his head was what woke Dan up. He looked up, confused as to his surroundings which he had just-  _ oh.  _

 

Sure enough, he found Phil beside him, sprawled out on his stomach. Dan sat up, careful not to move the bed too much. The last thing he wanted was to wake the other man. 

 

He put his head in his hands, attempting to get his thoughts together. He knew he had fucked up. But the worst thing was, he had wanted it. And he still did. 

 

He sat there until he noticed the tears sliding down his cheeks, dripping onto his collarbones and wondered how long he'd been crying. 

 

He got dressed in the dark, body moving methodically while his mind ran away as fast as it could. The rest of his tears stayed lodged in his throats as he silently made his way to the bedroom door. He turned around to look at Phil. Even in dark, he could make out the rise and fall of his chest as he slept.  _ He looks so peaceful.  _ His gaze moved to the empty space on the other side of the bed.  _ And you're about to destroy it. _

 

He closed the door behind him. He imagined himself going back in, waking up to Phil the next day. Imagined future dates and moving in together and letting years go by and not having to worry about  _ everything _ . 

 

But he couldn't. He knew how it ended. He's made that mistake before. Watched as the person beside him grew old while he stayed, trapped in the body of a life he wanted to forget. People changed. He didn't. 

 

And it broke him.

 

But he held the tears in as he walked down the street. Away from the happiness, away from the pain, away from it all. He held himself together as he walked into the coffee shop Phil had shown him and downed something to keep him awake. He didn't know how, but he held himself together. 

 

He opened the door to his flat with shaking hands, leaving the key in the lock after he slammed it shut. He fell against the door, unable to support his own weight anymore. He sat against the door, breathing unstable compared to how he imagined Phil’s was right then. 

 

And it was funny, Dan thought. How our eyes blur the truth when we can't bear to see it. And it seems that only when we blur everything around us do the things we're crying over become clear. And Dan knew. 

 

But he also knew what he had to do. He's found in his solitary existence that a person didn't need much. Anything that won't help one survive is deemed useless in Dan’s mind. The rest was only there to keep us busy until we die. Death and Dan didn't often cross paths. 

 

So he took the ratty, torn up suitcase from the back of his closet, and he packed what he needed. It didn't take long. He hadn’t brought many boxes in the first place. He didn't have much worth bringing. 

 

He surveyed the room one last time. He always forgot something. His eyes landed on an unfamiliar object, and it took Dan a moment to realize it was the bear. The damned bear Phil had given him that night. What had happened only a few weeks ago felt like years now. That's what made it worse. It had only been a few weeks of his life. That was nothing compared to what he had been through. 

 

But in that time he had felt more than he had in the past 50 years. It's how he wished he could feel all the time. Something to make life more tolerable.

 

He shoved the bear in his bag. 

 

And that was it. There was nothing else left for him. 

 

So he left.

 


	7. Chapter 7

The cab took him as far as it could- just a little outside the city. He knew the tube would take him farther, but in his emotional state he couldn't handle being around people. So he walked instead.

 

He lost track of time after a while, but he found himself stopping when the sun began melting into the horizon. Found himself a cheap motel for the night. Tried to sleep.

 

Couldn't. 

 

He didn't check his messages, didn't look at the time, didn't call in to work.

 

Phil would figure it out eventually.

 

* * *

 

There’s a certain type of pain in your chest that you can’t quite describe. It seems to start in your heart, planted like a seed. But it grows quickly, winding its roots around your bones. In a perfect world, it would flourish. Blossom into a beautiful tree, sprouting flowers in the spring and brightening up your life. But oh, this is not the perfect world. Instead it digs deep, grinding through your bones and it can wrap itself around you and twist you into what it wants. It’s flowers are poisoned, blooming only to wilt until the petals fall to the pit of your stomach and they pile up until it leaves you on your knees. 

 

This was how Dan was feeling. 

 

It got worse and worse every time he felt his damned phone buzz again. He didn’t bother checking. He knew who it was. He had to give the man credit, though. It had taken him only about a day and a half to start nonstop calling. Better than Dan had thought. 

 

It was Phil. Phil  _ fucking  _ Lester who kept calling him and texting him and whatever he could to try to reach Dan. Did Phil not understand he was trying not to cry? Every vibration of his phone sent his tear ducts to hell and back until he gave up and found himself on a park bench in  _ god knows where _ , sputtering as he tried to ward off the looks of passersby. 

 

He liked the bench, he thought. It grounded him. He could stop thinking about Ph-  _ Him, _ and just focus on the bench. The bench. The bench. The bench. 

 

_ But oh god remember that amazing second date where Phil took me out to that little restaurant no one knows about and we stayed there way too long and when they kicked us out we gazed at the stars and talked and talked and talkedandtalked on that fucking bench. _

 

All on that bench.

 

Dan looked around. To his right was the world he knew. The world he loved. The world with Him. The world he had left. To his left a brand new world. A place he had never been and a world he had never seen  _ and never asked for  _ and a world without Him and a world-

 

Dan got up.

  
  
  


And he walked into the world. 

 

* * *

  
  


Rain relentlessly pelted him through his hoodie as he made his way down the road. He walked slowly, making no effort to hide from the downpour. Fuck, he just wanted to go home. 

 

But where was home?

 

_ Do I even have a home? What is home supposed to mean?  _ He thought.  _ There is no such fucking thing as ho- _

 

His train of thought was interrupted by what looked like a blessing to him. Finally, a shining light of sanctuary in the ever present gloominess of real life.  _ A bar. _ To some, it may scream “run down shit-show with watered-down beer on the verge of closing” or “the best place to score hot college chicks”, which he may or may not have looked up on Yelp before going in, but to Dan Howell, it was everything.

 

_ You’re mind’s already numb, might as well spread the feeling to the rest of you,  _ he reassured himself,  _ what’s that saying? Fight pain with more pain. Why the fuck not. _

 

The door took a jerk to pull open, almost pushing him backwards into what had now become a river in the streets. The place was dimly lit, but Dan could still make out what Yelp user BillNye297 was talking about; the floor had numerous marks littered across it, chairs were absent from tables, and there were still drinks left on the bar from the previous night's’ endeavors. 

 

Small talk filled the air as he made his way to a bar stool near the corner. Quiet. Away. From the people. From the world.

 

He ordered a shot and downed it before his mind had time to process the decision. 

 

_ Fuck. Still the same. _

 

A second shot joins the first. 

 

He downed it, wincing at the taste. Still didn't bother to follow it up with anything. 

 

Tonight wasn’t about luxury. 

 

He was about to order a third when the bartender sent him a look. Not exactly judgemental, but not sentimental either. Somewhere in the middle.

 

Whatever said bartender’s intentions were, they had him settle on a gin and tonic instead. His glass steadily got lower and lower as he watched a few more people enter. Judging by their expressions, in the same boat as him.

 

_ Should that be comforting?  _ He thought.  _ Probably not. But shit, it almost is.  _

 

There was only one couple in the place. Two girls on the far side, stirring their drinks and talking softly. Giggling over bad jokes.

 

_ Just like what you used to do with Him. _

 

He orders another drink.


	8. Chapter 8

A year used to seem like such a  _ monumental  _ amount of time. Three hundred sixty five days capturing a life. Stealing it away, letting you make a fresh one the next year. Rebuild yourself after picking up the pieces you’d left behind, giving and taking from others as you please.

 

But after so long, it started to seem as though someone had started to get greedy, stealing a few days here and there. Making the years going by shorter and shorter each time, until writing the date was reduced to a shrug and a shot in the dark.

 

The first few years after Phil were difficult for Dan. He moved around the U.K., keeping his distance just like he used to do.

 

But it felt different. 

 

Because now he knew what it was he was missing. He wanted it back. But he had to look past that, tell himself it was just the the pain talking, trying to control him. And yet, he couldn’t help but to gravitate back towards the place that held the best and worst times of his life.

 

There was a feeling of almost-comfort at times. Times when the background music to his life lined up and had him feeling the right kind of numb. If there even was a right kind. 

 

He knew how to take care of himself. He'd been alone before Ph-  _ Him,  _ and he could be alone again. But he still slipped up sometimes. Mundane tasks fell away for days at a time- forgetting to eat, to change his clothes, to go outside. Things that simply didn't matter to Dan. It wasn't as if not doing anything would kill him.  _ Not  _ doing anything was the one thing that kept him from, well, doing things.

 

Doing bad things. 

 

But he slipped up at that sometimes, too.

 

* * *

 

Humans, Dan decided, were far too flawed for his liking. They asked too many questions, wanted too much from everything, never thought it was enough. Albeit, Dan was human as well, he could find himself to be guilty of these traits too. But to the  _ extent _ some were able to take it- well, it was far beyond Dan’s knowledge.

 

Dogs, on the other hand, were just happy to have someone there. 

 

So Dan found company in dogs. They kept him from being  _ completely  _ alone. Gave him someone to talk to. Someone that wouldn't ask questions, wouldn't judge him for the fucked up things he so often did.

 

Eventually, he moved to somewhere more isolated. Well, completely isolated. But he liked it that way.

 

He still tried to remain in touch with society, as much as he could. Service was spotty at best, but he stayed in tune as to who was president of what or when that got legalized. Mostly ensuring the world wasn't collapsing without his knowledge.

 

He became  _ very _ invested in music. 

 

He bought a piano first thing when moving into his new home, played it almost every day. There was only so much to do in an empty house. The music he made- notes he connected together- filled the space, wisping through the halls until the could cling to each other tight enough to form the bodies missing from his life. They roamed around the house, moving through him like a whirlwind that was nothing but his own creation. 

 

Sometimes he’d wake up to find all the furniture in his living room rearranged. Or a new mess in the kitchen, or pages upon pages of writing scattered across the table. Things he had no memory of doing, yet he was the only one who could have done them. It was the sort of thing a ghost might do, to prove to the living that he hadn’t yet faded away. He was haunting his own home.

 

But he liked it that way.

 

* * *

 

It had been a dreary day when he got the call. Oddly fitting.

 

Dan had hardly recognized the ringing of his phone, though he used the device often enough. He hadn’t  _ called  _ anyone in years- at least, not on purpose. The moment he saw the caller ID the phone slipped out of his hand, hitting the ground in what felt like slow motion through Dan’s eyes. He scrambled to pick it up, pressing accept with shaky hands before his mind could stop him.

 

“H-hello?” Dan’s voice was weak, from lack of use or from shock he couldn’t quite tell.

 

There was a faint gasp from the other end. “Dan?” It was a voice that could never escape his mind, parting words forever engraved in his memory. 

 

It was  _ Phil. _

“Phil?” And suddenly Dan sounded so small, so weak, and it came crashing down how amazing it was that one person could make him feel so many different ways at once.

 

He could feel the tears begin to run down his cheeks but oh, was good was it trying to stop them anymore.

 

“God, I missed you voice,” Phil said, and from what Dan could tell he must be crying too.

 

Anything Dan might’ve had to say got caught in his throat, blocking everything but the slow breaths he had to take to keep from falling apart.

 

“Dan, I want you to come back,” Phil didn’t hesitate in his words, “come back and see me. I know you don’t want to. I know you have every reason to stay away. But I- I don’t have much time Dan.”

 

Time. Dan almost laughed through his tears, it was all so ironic. The one thing Dan had more than enough of. Time. The concept he thought he’d never have to worry about, and now here it was, the root of his demise.

 

There would never be enough time.

 

“How long?” It was a whisper.

 

“I don’t- I’m old, Dan. It’s not like the movies, I can’t give you a time. I just know it’s soon.” And he sounded so casual about, so at peace with himself. 

 

“Where are you?” He still wasn’t confident in his voice- wasn’t sure he could be.

 

And so Phil told him, said that he was still in London, and told Dan the hospital he was at. Somehow Dan found his voice for long enough to say he’d come, he’d come and find Phil. And the moment Phil hung up Dan began to sob, no longer holding back the noise just for Phil’s sake. He cried until his legs couldn’t hold him up any longer and he fell to the floor, head knocking against the hardwood with a thud. He sobbed until he blacked out, curled up on his floor, letting the regret and the sadness and everything that had built up inside of him flow out, spilling onto that floor. 

 

He only had one thing on his mind.

 

_ Phil. _

  
  



	9. Chapter 9

50 years. 

 

You'd think that'd be enough, right? For humans to finally figure out how to not die. Prolong it, at least. They're always so  _ obsessed  _ with the concept of life and death. Some want it. Some don't. Some believe there's life after death. Some don’t. Have they not figured out how to  _ work together  _ yet?

 

Dan hadn't really been paying attention. 

 

He'd been,  _ experimenting, _ to say the least. Pushing the limits of whatever power had granted him eternal life. Finding how many bones he could break, how long he could go without eating, how much he could burn himself before fainting.

 

He knew it wouldn't kill him. He thought so, anyway. He wouldn't mind much if it did. But somehow, cheating death was the only thing that made him feel alive.

 

Funny how that works.

 

But death was something the rest of the world had yet to escape. And the occupants of the hospital in front of Dan were no exception.

 

It was cold. He wasn't even inside but he just  _ knew  _ it was cold in there. But he had come here for a reason, no matter how much it hurt. So he took a breath.

 

And walked inside.

 

* * *

 

Dan couldn't find Phil.

 

He knew his memory had faded, but he knew what Phil was like. And now he was frantically speed-walking down the hallways, wondering if he was too late. If Phil was already gone. 

 

He turned a corner and ran straight into a nurse, who looked equally as stressed out as him.

 

“Uh- can you help me? Please?” Dan's people skills were a little rusty, but he needed this.

 

“Sure, who are you looking for?” 

 

“Phil Lester? Is- is he still here?” Dan choked on his name.

 

The nurse paused for a moment. “Room 318, I believe.”

 

Dan thanked her and began walking again when he felt her hand graze his arm.

 

“I am so sorry,” she told him, expression the most sincere thing Dan had ever seen in a hospital. “I'm Nurse Reid if you need me.”

 

Oh god.

 

Dan nodded, quickly pointing his gaze towards the floor and walking off before he said anything he would regret. He found Room 318 moments later, ready to rush in when-

 

Phil wasn't the only one there. 

 

There were five others surrounding the hospital bed, and from the looks of it, they were family. Two children, three grandchildren, all looking at him like he was the sun. Dan stood there, staring through the small window while they talked. He couldn’t make out their words, nor much of how Phil looked, but it wasn’t hard to guess what they were saying.

 

When Phil finally glanced up at the door, his eyes met Dan’s and for a moment he didn’t look a day older than when Dan had met him. He nodded at Dan, just once, and let a small smile onto his face.

 

Dan understood. He waited while Phil said his goodbyes to the loved ones around him. He seemed so sincere in every word, like this was the last time he would ever see them. It took Dan a moment to realize it very well could be.

 

He backed away when they left the room, disassociating himself from that area of the building. They were two different parts of Phil’s life. Some things just didn’t mix.

Before Dan could even make it to the chair beside Phil’s bed his eyes were starting to blur. He did his best to blink the tears away, sitting down so he wouldn’t stumble forwards.

 

“Hi, Dan.” His voice sounded as though he’d lent it out and gotten it back in pieces he’d had to tape back together. It had a rough sound to it, like he hadn’t had a thing to drink. But under it all, it still sounded like Phil. 

 

His appearance was another matter. He had accumulated all the features that came with age, and yet, he managed to embrace them. The wrinkles on his age, the dark circles under his eyes, his skinny frame looking like a ghost on the white sheets underneath him. Even those bright blue eyes he once had looked tired. 

 

Finally, Dan spoke. “Hi,” he nearly whispered. He didn’t want Phil to hear his voice crack. 

 

They stared at each other for a moment, as if that single moment would make up for all the years that had gone missing.

 

“I suppose we’ve got a few things to talk about, haven’t we?” Phil spoke softly, lacking the old energetic aura that used to be there.

 

“I- I suppose we do.” Dan looked down, letting out a soft sigh.

 

“Dan?”

 

“Yes, Phil?” He looked up and found Phil wringing his hands.

 

“I, well, I think I understand. It’s not your fault. But I need you to know I never stopped loving you.” He took Dan’s hand then, lacing their fingers together like he used to do.

 

“Oh.” Two little letters. But they were all Dan could before he let out a sob, laughing and crying at the same time because it was all so  _ surreal _ and even if he had the words to describe it those wouldn’t be good enough. Nothing would ever be good enough. Everything he felt was in its own world and yet here he was, stuck crying into the sheets of a hospital bed while the world went on around him.

 

He felt Phil’s arms around him and  _ god, why did he have to be so selfish? The man beside him was  _ dying  _ and he had the audacity to cry for himself. He should be the one telling Phil it was okay, telling him he was right there, telling him that god fucking damnit it would be  _ okay.

 

But Dan was weak. He was weak, and he was selfish, and he was a pessimistic bastard who’d been around too long to believe in happy endings. That the world actually cared. But the world went on no matter what he did. No matter how much he loved someone else, how much he hated himself, how much he tried and he tried and he  _ tried  _ to make himself matter he would never mean  _ anything _ .

 

But he did. He meant something to Phil. It might not be much, it might not be forever, but it was something. And to Dan, that meant his whole world.

 

So he calmed himself back down, he wiped his tears away, and he caught his breath enough to say the only thing he was sure of at the moment.

 

“I love you too.”

 

* * *

 

They talked well past the stars climbing into the sky, providing sanctuary for anything still wandering through the night.

 

Dan wanted Phil to do most of the talking. About his life, about his stories, about his thoughts. About everything he could and wanted to share with Dan. Dan found a strange comfort in it.

 

Turns out Phil had settled down with a lovely girl. He told Dan they had a relationship that was like they were best friends. Had two children together, a handful of grandchildren from there. It was love, he told Dan. But it was a different kind of love. He was content. But it wasn’t Dan.

 

He told Dan that he’d broken into his apartment, all those years ago. Found everything Dan hadn’t taken with him. Gotten a nasty bruise on his arm from tripping over a box. Still had a few items, if Dan wanted them. Apologized for that being slightly creepy.

 

Told Dan about his trips around the world. He wasn’t able to take too many, not nearly as many as he’d wanted. Work got in the way. It’s a shame, he said, I’ll never be able to. Pictures can only give you so much.

 

Phil had pictures, too. Found he had a thing for them. Pictures of family, pictures of adventures. Pictures of Dan. It was a way to keep the memory, even when he couldn’t have the real thing. Sometimes, he said, he had to settle.

 

His wife had died a few years back. It was a time, he realized, he had found himself broken. But he had been broken before. And he could fix himself once again.

 

He told Dan about his life, not just the pretty parts. Told him the ways he’d changed. A whole story of the life Dan never got to see. The slow changes, the fast ones, the spontaneous decisions. Told him he didn’t regret much.

 

And it was true. Phil found, after everything, he was content with his life. Said he felt old. Let out a laugh at that, tongue sticking out between his teeth just like he was in the back of the old diner during a shift, giggling over a bad joke Dan had made.

 

“What happened,” Dan asked, “to the diner?” Change, he thought, was something so surreal. To Dan, it was the same town. How could anything change when he wasn’t there to see it?

 

The place closed, Phil told him. So had the little coffee shop down the road. “What a shame,” Phil said, “it was a good one.” The arcade was still there, and, “oh, what had it been called back then?”

 

“Phantasia,” Dan remembered. According to Phil, It went by a different name now, had been through about four along with countless remodels. Wasn’t the same place anymore. But who could blame it? Fifty years was a long time.

 

Dan expected the immortal questions. Was almost surprised with how few Phil asked. Said that, strangely, it was comforting. That Dan looked the same. It brought him back to a time of his life that had began to fade. Thought, would he even recognize Dan? How could he talk to someone who looked so foreign to him?

 

But Phil said he did regret. He regretted not holding onto Dan like a lifeline and instead letting him just slip away. He said he forgave Dan. But he couldn’t help wanting him back. 

 

And Dan hated himself for that. For not at least calling, and least saying something. But his life had given him his own world at that point. Made him think no, this is for the best and surely, this won’t affect anyone’s life, right?

 

Right?

 

But he had forgotten how fragile humans can be. How short their little lives are. Cause in the world, they don’t matter. Just  _ one  _ person can’t possibly matter.

 

But that person is someone. Every single person is full of memories that shape their lives and they only have so much time that they have to save space for the good ones. But the bad ones, the awful ones, push their way through and what Dan thought would mean nothing is what led him to where he was, next to a dying man, regretting everything he thought he knew.

 

And when they’d nearly talked their lungs away Phil told Dan “hey, you can sleep here if you want. You don’t have to, of course. I understand.”

 

But Dan agreed, said “no, of course, I’d love to, if you want me here.” And so Phil moved over as much as he could, made room in the somewhat cramped bed, and let Dan kick off his shoes and lay down next to him. 

 

They adjusted for a moment, facing towards one another. And they were young again. Phil staring at Dan, looking at the same face he had seen so many years ago and brought back to the few beautiful moments they shared together.

 

Not enough.

 

And Dan staring at Phil, picking out the features that age couldn’t take away. The deep blue his eyes became if you were close enough, the way his smile shaped his face, the hairstyle he’d never managed to outgrow. All the same things from the short time they’d had.

 

Not enough.

 

And they drifted, forever in each other’s thoughts as their eyes fell closed. 

 

* * *

 

Someone was shaking Dan awake. 

 

He was pulled from his dreams by someone calling for him. It took him a moment to realize where he was, and figured it was Phil wanting Dan to stop taking the whole bed, or something of the like.

 

But the shaking continued. So he opened his eyes, and found a nurse standing over him with wide eyes.

 

“-sir, we need you to get out of the bed, please. The doctor needs you to move, sir.”

 

Dan blinked, not processing the request for a moment. When he did, he stepped out of the bed, mind racing as to what was wrong.

 

He tried to ask. “Wha- what’s happening?” It was then he noticed the beeping coming from behind him. He turned around and found Phil, sleeping on the bed where he had left the other man. But then the doctor began rushing around, and the nurse tried to usher him out, and the beeping got louder and Dan’s breathing got heavier as he realized breathing was something Phil  _ wasn't doing. _

 

He pushed past the nurse, limbs still heavy with sleep as moved to stand next to Phil. Told him to wake up. To wake up Phil, it’s not funny. We haven’t finished talking. Screamed at him to wake up, wake up,  _ wake up.  _ Screamed until his voice broke and he collapsed into the chair behind him, too drained to do anything else.

 

He watched as the doctor, calmly as ever, tried to revive the man. Checked his vitals until the short beeps became one long one and Dan just  _ knew. _

 

But he wouldn't believe it. Not Phil. Not his Phil. His Phil wouldn’t leave him like this. Not without saying goodbye.

 

He hadn’t even said goodbye.

 

And Phil never finished his stories and Dan never finished his questions and everything began to feel like a book with the last few pages ripped out and torn to shreds because Dan never got his ending. 

 

He knew no ending between the two could be perfect, but it was what he’d come there for. Closure. Thought that maybe, just maybe, if the timing went right and the words were found and the stars aligned just for them he could let go of Phil. Finally let go.

 

But not like this.

 

This meant he could never say goodbye.meant that every breath he took would be laced with the last words he never got a chance to say. There would be nothing else to talk about, no more stories to share,  _ nothing. _

 

It wasn't as if he were leaving Phil. If he'd left Phil, there still be a chance had left Phil. If he’d left, there’d always be the possibility, no matter how small, that Dan could go back. Could finish it on his own time. But Phil had left him. That meant no matter how hard he tried, how many things he had to say, how many questions he still needed answered, Phil would never be there for him again.

 

Never.

 

Eternity was a long time. 

 

But never was even longer.

 

* * *

 

The nurse had left, given Dan his time to say goodbye. Like it was that easy.

 

That had been an hour ago.

 

But Dan still sat there, feeling the rise and fall of his chest and begging Phil’s to match it again. He'd stared so long he'd become convinced he could see the life draining from Phil’s face. Phil’s eyes were closed, arms at his sides, lying on his back.

 

The perfect picture of passing.

 

But he looked so calm, so at peace with himself. His hadn't been a violent death, hadn't gone kicking and screaming with a head full of regrets. He'd done what he could, and he'd let himself go.

 

How very Phil.

 

Dan couldn't bring himself to say anything. Couldn't bring himself to move because he knew he wouldn't be able to get a word out with breaking down again. He was frozen in his own emotionless world, trying to numb the void eating at him. He blocked out any thoughts that tried to move through his head, ignoring the ones that managed to slip through.

 

Maybe he could just stay like that forever.

 

His forever was interrupted not too long later by the nurse regretfully informing him that they would have to take proper care of the body soon.  _ The body.  _ Like it wasn’t even Phil anymore.

 

But he knew he had to go. He wanted Phil to have a proper funeral, his family to have proper closure. The way Phil would have wanted it.

 

And those were the only things left that held what Phil  _ wanted  _ now. And Dan wasn't part of it.

 

Dan pulled an envelope out of his jacket, stared at it for a few moments. He walked over to Phil, and carefully placed it under one of his hands. It was a letter. Something Dan had wanted to give him before-

 

Before it was too late.

 

Dan looked over the other man, for what he realized, would be the last time.

 

He closed his eyes, saving that memory of Phil along with the others somewhere deep in his mind.

 

And with that piece of him stowed away, forever locked in his mind, he walked away.

 

For the last time.

  
  
  
  



	10. Chapter 10

_ dear phil, _

 

_ I should’ve stayed. _

 

_ I should’ve held you close that night and drifted to sleep so we could grace each other’s presence again the next morning. Where we could live in a world full of cloudless skies and whispered I love you’s and our own little piece of life. A world of quiet simplicity where nothing’s for sure but finally, fucking finally, I would know that I have someone. That I am yours and you are mine. _

 

_ We could have gone on dates. Like a real couple. We could’ve had fancy dinners that we couldn’t afford and sleepless nights and Christmas lights hung up in the corners of our flat. We could’ve been  _ normal  _ and  _ sane  _ and  _ together.  _ But we aren’t. And we can’t. _

 

_ We can’t because I fucked up. I fucked up and got myself lost in the world when all I wanted to do was get lost in your eyes.  _

 

_ and I tried to make real what I knew could never be. But I hoped and I prayed that maybe just this once the world would let me be  _ happy.  _ That’s all anyone really wants, isn’t it? To be happy. _

 

_ Do you know how much I thought about you? How many times I tried to distract myself with things that used to leave me scared shitless? To wipe out that image of you from my mind so I could just  _ forget _? It’s funny, you know, how much I don’t remember. And yet I can’t seem to forget you. _

 

_ God, I could drown myself in those eyes of yours. Would you like that? If I did? Jumped right in and let the water devour me. Until my eyes close and my arms fall away and I’m falling falling falling for you. All for you. Falling until I hit the bottom and as the last of the air in my lungs escapes I can only hope I have enough of it to say your name. And then it’s over. I lay while all above me life goes on. A life I don’t have to be a part of. I’d get to be with you again, right? _

 

_ I’m sorry there’s so many places you’ll never know. I’m sorry for never showing you the corner of the bay where nobody ever goes. The best places in Italy with what we can afford and the perfect spot to watch the sunset from under the Eiffel Tower. I’m sorry for never trying your favorite ice cream shop more than once. I’m sorry we never spent a day walking along the coast like you always talked about. I’m sorry I didn’t just kiss you the first time you tried after giving me that damned bear. God, I’m sorry. _

 

_ And here I am, feeling sorry for myself. You’re nearly gone and I can’t even wait long enough to cry over you. But it’s better this way. You don’t need me. Somebody could love you more. _

 

_ I hope somebody did. Will you tell me about them? I'm sure they're lovely. You deserve it. _

 

_ But that’s the thing. You deserve more than anyone could ever give you, let alone me. We both knew it, too. So why did you believe in me? You were digging your own grave.  _

 

_ I know you’ll leave me, just like I left you. Is that what this is? Revenge for what I must have put you through? Do you want to see me hurting? You could’ve never called me again. Disappeared just like everyone else. I’d never have to worry about you again. But I still can’t blame you. Cause what type of revenge would hurt both of us this badly? _

 

_ I not sure if you’ll ever really be gone. I know  _ you  _ won’t be there anymore. I’m not delusional. I know you’ll never make any more jokes, never be there to give advice, never share your stories again. But I can’t help clinging onto the  _ concept  _ of you. Anyone who’s ever known you would understand. As long as I’m here, you’re still here. But I don’t know if I can be here without you. _

 

_ Of all the words that went unsaid, all the days we never shared, all the worlds we never discovered, there’s one thing I hope can outweigh them all.  _

 

_ I showed you me. And I wasn’t sure I could do that anymore. You showed me how to be human again. And that’s something no one has ever given me, Phil. A chance to be human. _

 

_ And you accepted me for who I was. You never asked questions, you never doubted me. You just wanted  _ me.  _ For who I  _ was.  _ For who I  _ am.  _ And for that, I owe you my life. I owe you a chance to keep your legacy. _

 

_ Because I love you Phil. I love you more than I know what love is and even in my time on Earth I’ve learned so little and yet you make me feel like I can find all the answers as long as we can do it together. I love you for all that you are and god, these years have just been practice because I have to prove to you that I will still love you. I don’t care if you’re gone, I don’t care how long I’ve been alone, I don’t care how many tears I spill onto a page before I can finally waste away because I love you.  _

 

_ I  _ love  _ you. _

 

_ Please don’t be gone. _

  
  
  
  


_ Forever Yours, _

_ Dan. _

  
  
  



End file.
